Sweet Sable, released her today Options

[Mink&WillowsMom]

Many of you have been following Sable's saga. (In Lost & Missing, "Do Finders Have to be Keepers?") This morning I took her to the vet's to let her go. Such a sweet girl. Three years ago I found her on the freeway, near death, stranded in the grassy median. Brought her home, and after a week of thinking it over, she decided to live. Fattened up to 10 pounds, though remained with weak kidneys, and arthritis in her shoulder. She purred me to sleep, and purred me awake, always sleeping right next to my head. After about a year, she seemed to 'wake up' a bit, and get off the bed to sit in the livingroom, or go lie in the sun on the back porch.

Over this winter, she was back to sleeping about 23 hours a day. I'd been noticing a decline, but of course it's always gradual. Last week I suddenly saw that she was really winding down, getting ready to go. I realized she'd stopped eating. Still, she purred. She and I talked about euthanasia, and I asked her to tell me when she was ready. Last night I got home from work, and through the evening every so often she'd let out a meow/howl of pain. She was able to get to sleep again around midnight, so I was able to get sleep last night, then first thing this morning took her to the vet.

I'm almost finished digging her grave. I'm grateful the sun is shining, since it's still below freezing. That's my biggest concern, she hated being cold. I know she's out of her body now, but still. She's wrapped in a fleece blanket, and has a little cardboard coffin box too.

It took a long time for us to bond, but we did. My love for her was quiet and full of compassion. I loved her morning serenades, purring me awake. For pics, and to read more of her story, click here: Sable's Story Part I and Sable's story part II.

[Mink&WillowsMom]

I'm doing pretty well emotionally. I have a very intense job (psych evals on folks applying for welfare), and today could feel the fatigue of making sure I stayed focused and en pointe. I was able to talk with friends at work and tell them what happened without falling to tears. I thought I wasn't scheduled for tomorrow, and could take the day to sleep, rest, and grieve. Today learned I have a full schedule. Oy. Normally, that would be good news, but gearing up for another full day is taking a lot.

Here's the rest of the story: even without losing Sable, this would be a draining, exhausting week. Monday I drove nearly 3 hours to work in a distant office, stayed overnight, then drove 1 hour 40 minutes to another far office on Tuesday. That night I arrived home to find Sable in pain and ready to go. Because I'd driven so far, and was so tired, I didn't drive through the night to an emergency vet, but waited til morning. I try not to think that she might have been howling Monday night, when I was away. The exhaustion would be easy to just buck up and deal with, except that I've been in adrenal failure this past year. Each and every day I have to put together a plan to manage my energy. The extra driving would have been the big hit of the week, now Sable's death on top of it -- I am just pushing through on sheer grit. My adrenals are aching like hell tonight, so having to work an unexpected full day tomorrow -- by evening I'll be coasting on fumes. Fortunately I can stay in bed all day Saturday if I need to. Even though my favorite shows are on TV tonight, that's what the DVR is for, so I would do well to go to bed early.

Last night in bed was okay. I patted her spot, talking to her, AND enjoyed being able to stretch my left arm to the side for the first time in three years. Even though I am so sorry she was in pain at the end, it was a gift she let me know about it so suddenly and so clearly -- I have no regrets about releasing her, wondering if it was too early. I just hope she hadn't been enduring it silently very long. I gave her a bath two weeks ago, handling her lots, and she didn't complain in particular, though was clearly too weak to resist much. I sat her in my lap several times afterwards, working through her clumped fur, and she didn't voice pain then either. So I'm hoping it was a swiftly escalating thing, and she wasn't in pain very long before she told me.

Tinsica's death in 2002 was very sad, because she'd been with me so long -- 18.5 years, from when I was 24 to 42. Cheddar's death the following year was sad, but she too tumbled through renal failure, so I knew the terrain and was able to release her when she made it clear how miserable she was with getting sub Q fluids. (she was 16) Weeks later, I adopted kittens, Mink and Willow. Willow is a joy, but Mink was my soul kitty, and when he was hit by a car only 3 years later in 2006, it damn near ripped me in half. (Willow is the gray boy in my avatar, Mink is the black one, his littermate.) Then I adopted Rohan and Luna. (Adopting in pairs is so much more fun.) The following spring, in 2007, my father died, but I had the joyous consolation of inheriting his glorious Maine Coon cat Twitchit. Three months later Twitch died, to go be with Papa. (Killed by a raccoon.) Four months after that, I found Sable. I say this so you understand why I can be saying I'm doing okay with Sable's death. I've lost 5 cats and my father in just over 8 years. I know my way around grief. And there's nothing unfair or unexpected in Sable's death -- from the day I found her I knew to simply enjoy her as long as she chose to stay.

Willow will be 8 this spring, and Rohan and Luna will be 5 (omigosh that was fast!). So now I am blessed with a household of healthy young kittykids, and my yard is now fenced, to keep them in and raccoons out. I'm ready to have grief go take a lonnnnnngg vacation.